


Boss' Son

by valda



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Rimming, Sweat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 06:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14995019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valda/pseuds/valda
Summary: Kylo Ren is a hand on Brendol Hux's farm. Armitage Hux is the boss' son, usually kept locked away in the house. Brendol would not be happy if he knew his son took every opportunity to watch Kylo work--and he'd be even unhappier if he knew what Kylo was thinking.





	Boss' Son

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Хозяйский сынок](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17809295) by [Hux_n_Ren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hux_n_Ren/pseuds/Hux_n_Ren)



> Originally posted to Tumblr [here](http://cosleia.tumblr.com/post/175091707533/boss-son), written for [this kyluxhardkinks prompt](http://kyluxhardkinks.tumblr.com/post/160496141990/farmer-au-where-theyre-both-country-boys-and-hux).

It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right, that Kylo Ren should look so good, no matter what he was doing.

A normal man did not become more attractive after a day working a farm. A normal man got grimy and sweaty and disgusting. Kylo got grimy and sweaty, but somehow, he did not get disgusting at all.

Armitage was supposed to be feeding the chickens, one of the few tasks his father trusted him with—never mind that Armitage kept the books for the farm, did the taxes, made the sales; he was worthless because he was “skinny and frail”—but the bucket of feed dangled unheeded from his hands, and the hens squawked angrily and pecked at the legs of his overalls, and Armitage stood, eyes wide, mouth open, watching Kylo Ren.

The hired hand was hard at work churning butter, one of the farm’s popular organic, cruelty-free wares. They did things the old-fashioned way here, as Armitage’s father liked it, which meant Kylo’s huge hands were gripped around the long pole of the plunger, fingers flexing as he drove it deep into the churn, the shaft sliding smoothly up and down through the hole in the lid.

Kylo was shirtless, as he often preferred to be, his skin pink under the hot afternoon sun. His stomach was flat and when he moved it rippled with muscle; his pectorals stood out above it, big, thick, hard, strong.

He wore his hair long, often tied back into a bun, but today it flowed around his face, shining black with sweat. His wide red lips twitched and he let out a loud grunt with each thrust of the plunger.

Kylo’s arms were enormous. His biceps might be the size of Armitage’s head. His thighs were just as muscular, thick and strong. This was a man who could  _work_.

With a final groan and one last thrust, Kylo stepped back from the churn, swiping at his sweaty forehead with his hand. Armitage was moving before he knew what he was doing, dropping the bucket and dashing to Kylo’s side, pulling his handkerchief from the front pocket of his overalls.

“Here,” he said breathlessly, holding out the gingham square.

Kylo looked at him, and suddenly the world was nothing but those rich brown eyes. “Well now,” Kylo said, and it was the first time he’d ever spoken to Armitage, and his voice was so  _deep_. “What have we got here?”

“It’s my handkerchief,” Armitage managed, his mind barely on the words.

Kylo laughed, and Armitage thought it might be at him, but his laugh was so free, so raw, that it almost didn’t matter. “Wasn’t talking about the handkerchief,” Kylo said, but he took it anyway, mopping at his forehead and cheeks and then scrubbing it down his neck and chest. Armitage had never been more jealous of a piece of cloth in his life.

“Thanks kindly,” Kylo said, nodding at the now-sodden handkerchief. “I’ll hold onto it, wash it tonight, bring it back to you tomorrow.”

“No,” Armitage protested. He felt a flush creeping up the back of his neck, and he ducked his head to hide his face beneath the wide brim of his straw hat. “I mean—you can keep it, if you want. And if you don’t want, um, you don’t have to wash it. I’ll just take it back.”

Kylo reached out, tipped up Armitage’s hat with his thick fingers. “You sure about that?” he asked. Armitage thought he might be smirking.

“Uh. Yeah,” Armitage said, fighting a quaver in his voice.

“Suit yourself,” Kylo said with an easy shrug. He folded the handkerchief in quarters, then slid it into the front pocket of Armitage’s overalls. Armitage could smell the sweat, on Kylo and on the cloth, and he swayed a bit on his feet.

“Thank you,” Armitage said, stupidly. When he realized what he’d said, he couldn’t withhold a horrified gasp. “I mean,” he stammered. “Um. Bye.” Armitage wheeled around and ran, back to where the bucket had fallen to the ground. He fought his way through the mass of chickens ecstatic over the spilled feed, retrieved the bucket, and took off for the barn. He didn’t dare look back.

~

In the privacy of the barn, Armitage hung up the feed bucket, doffed his straw hat, and sighed. He’d finally spoken to Kylo Ren, but it had gone horribly. It would have been better not to offer the handkerchief at all.

Well. Perhaps not.

Armitage leaned back against the slatted wall and slowly withdrew the handkerchief from his pocket. It absolutely reeked of Kylo Ren’s sweat. Hands trembling, Armitage raised the cloth to his face. First he sniffed it, tentatively, cautiously. When that wasn’t enough, he pressed his lips to it, kissed it. Then he gave in and buried his nose in it. No matter what else had happened, he at least had this.

“Oh, pardon me,” came a deep voice from the doorway. Armitage looked up in horror to see Kylo standing there holding the butter churn. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Kylo walked with a decided swagger, a shifting of the hips that was utterly mesmerizing. Armitage was frozen. He could do nothing but watch as Kylo approached. He was still clutching the handkerchief to his face.

“Ain’t you a sweet little thing,” Kylo said softly, coming to a stop very close to Armitage and setting the butter churn down. Leaning in, Kylo placed his hands on the wall to either side of Armitage’s shoulders, boxing him in between his muscular arms.

“I’m not little,” Armitage protested weakly, the cloth muffling his voice.

Kylo laughed, a soft, low chuckle. “I s’pose you’re right,” he said. “You’re nearly as tall as me.” He leaned closer, lips brushing Armitage’s ear. “You like how I smell?”

A full-body shudder ran from Armitage’s toes to the top of his head. He let out a squeak.

“What else do you like about me, boss’ son?”

Armitage’s eyes widened, and he lowered the handkerchief away from his mouth.

“Yeah, I know who you are,” Kylo purred. “Spotted you m’first day. And ever since, I’ve seen you watching.”

“I don’t—I haven’t been—”

“No?” Kylo pulled back and looked Armitage straight in the eyes. “I was under the impression you might like to do a little more than just watch. But if y’ain’t even been watching…”

He straightened, arms dropping to his sides, and Armitage felt a mixed rush of relief and panic. “No,” he stammered. “Yes. Wait.”

“Uh huh?” Kylo said, tipping his head to one side and giving Armitage an evaluating look.

Armitage licked his lips, and when he did he could swear Kylo’s eyes darkened. “More than watching,” he said, emboldened, “would be great.”

Kylo settled his big hands at Armitage’s waist, gripping him tightly, pulling him flush against his own body. Armitage let out a shuddery sigh, trembling in disbelief as he came up against Kylo’s hard muscle. His fingers knotted themselves into the handkerchief.

“We might could find a better use for that,” Kylo said, glancing at it. He slid his hands up Armitage’s sides, then forward to his chest, unhooking the straps of Armitage’s overalls. Then he tugged the handkerchief out of Armitage’s hands. “Open your mouth.” Armitage obeyed, blinking, and Kylo stuffed the handkerchief in. “There,” Kylo said approvingly. “We wouldn’t want you making too much noise when I fuck you.”

Armitage’s skin had already been tingling at the touch of Kylo’s huge hands, but now it felt like it was on fire. Disbelief and desire flooded through him. He groped clumsily at Kylo’s pecs, letting out a soft moan through the handkerchief.

“Like those, do you?” Kylo said teasingly, hands moving around to Armitage’s back. One pulled at the back of Armitage’s overalls until the straps fell from his shoulders; the other slid down to Armitage’s ass, palming it, one long finger sliding between Armitage’s legs to press at his taint.

Armitage let out a garbled cry, his head falling back.

“Oh, you’re awful good, ain’t you?” Kylo said, squeezing Armitage’s ass hard and then letting go. He stepped back, and Armitage missed him immediately, missed his hands and the heat of his body, and he let out a whine. But Kylo was busy pulling Armitage’s overalls down, working his shoes off and pulling the overalls after them. “I reckon I’d best not ruin your shirt,” he said, hands moving up to the buttons of Armitage’s flannel.

Armitage huffed through the handkerchief and shook his head, reaching up to yank his shirt open. Kylo got the message and did it for him, sending buttons flying. The flannel fell to the floor, leaving Armitage standing there in his white undershirt and underwear and socks.

“You’re gorgeous, you know,” Kylo murmured, moving in close again. “You look so sweet like this.” Armitage squirmed, hugging his elbows. “How do you keep your skin so pale, working on a farm? Hair like that, y’oughter be covered with freckles.” Kylo traced a long finger down Armitage’s cheek. “It’s ’cause yer pa keeps you locked up indoors, ain’t it? Hides you away from guys like me.”

Cheeks burning, Armitage dropped his gaze, but Kylo caught him by the chin and tipped his face back up. His other hand smoothed its way down Armitage’s side and slid up under his shirt, rucking it higher and higher, caressing over Armitage’s stomach and up to his chest. Kylo’s fingers found a nipple, and they rolled it gently, setting Armitage to squirming again.

Groaning, Armitage closed his eyes, his head falling back. Suddenly Kylo’s lips were at his throat, hot breath washing over his skin. He let go of Armitage’s chin and reached around to palm his ass once more. “I could eat you alive,” he murmured darkly. “I reckon I will.”

Kylo withdrew again, and Armitage whimpered. “Get the rest of that off,” Kylo told him, gesturing at Armitage’s underclothes. He turned to the butter churn, sliding the lid up off the plunger and then removing the plunger from the churn entirely. Armitage watched him, confused, then quickly pulled his shirt off over his head and slid his underwear down his legs. “There’s a good boy,” Kylo said. “Now, come here.” Kylo guided Armitage to stand in front of the butter churn. He placed the lid back on top and gestured to it. “Bend over and lean on that.”

Armitage obeyed, placing his hands carefully on top of the churn. “Now spread yer legs,” Kylo said, kicking lightly at the inside of his right foot. Armitage moved his feet apart—and then he was spread open, completely exposed. He shivered.

“Would you look at that,” Kylo breathed, running a hand down Armitage’s back and over his ass. “Pretty as a picture.” Embarrassment and pride warred within Armitage, setting his skin aflame. “Oh,” Kylo crowed, “even your ass blushes.” He drew back his hand and smacked it lightly, and Armitage let out a squeak that was mostly muffled by the handkerchief.

Kylo’s hands slid down the inside of Armitage’s thighs, then slowly moved back up. Armitage felt Kylo’s giant thumbs sweep up over the curve of his ass and then pinch at the flesh, pulling the cheeks apart. “Look at this tight little hole. How am I gonna get in there?”

Armitage didn’t know. He whimpered.

“Oh, don’t you worry none. I’ll treat you right, Armie.”

The undignified nickname was almost too much. Armitage fleetingly thought of standing up, of pushing Kylo away—but then there was a warm, toe-curling wetness probing gently at his most private place, and he didn’t know what it was but it felt so  _good_ he shook all over.

“Taste so good, little Armie,” Kylo said, and fuck, that was his  _tongue_ , he was—

A jolt shot up Armitage’s spine, arching his back and tossing his head and forcing a keening whine through the handkerchief. Kylo’s tongue had pushed past his rim, working its way right into him.

Armitage was huffing through the handkerchief now. It was hard to breathe. His eyes rolled back and his arms shook atop the butter churn. His cock was rock-hard and straining violently away from his body and he needed to touch it. He tried to move a hand down between his legs, but taking his hand off the churn destabilized it so much he almost toppled. He sobbed through the handkerchief.

“You’re so excited,” Kylo purred, pulling away from his ass. “Don’t want you coming too fast.” He reached forward and drew the handkerchief out of Armitage’s mouth. Armitage coughed and spluttered and gasped for breath. “Stay still,” Kylo said, and Armitage heard the handkerchief being shaken out and behind him. Then Kylo’s hands were at his groin, so close to his cock—and he was wrapping the handkerchief around it, tying it tight low on the base. “There,” Kylo said with satisfaction. “Now you won’t come till I say.”

“Fuck,” Armitage groaned.

Kylo smacked his ass. “Does yer pa know about your dirty mouth?”

To his dismay, Armitage’s cock throbbed. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

“I wonder what else that filthy mouth’s good for,” Kylo said. He moved around Armitage, trailing a hand up along his back and resting it on his shoulder as he came to a stop in front of him. Armitage watched as Kylo worked his jeans open with his free hand. Pulling them open and shoving his underwear down, Kylo withdrew the biggest cock Armitage had ever seen.

“ _Oh_ ,” Armitage breathed, staring at it.

“Open up,” Kylo said, shoving the head of his cock against Armitage’s lips. Raising his eyes to Kylo’s face, Armitage opened his mouth wide.

Kylo’s cock filled Armitage’s mouth completely. It was far more to take than the handkerchief had been. Armitage was sure the head had barely made it over his tongue when it was already hitting the back of his mouth…and there was still so much cock left to go.

When Armitage had dreamed of this, practicing with cucumbers and carrots, he’d had no idea Kylo would be this large. But he’d taught himself a trick, and maybe it would work. He tilted his head, adjusting his neck just right, and pressed forward to encourage Kylo’s dick to slide down his throat.

“Shit,” Kylo hissed, “ _good boy_ ,” and that made Armitage’s throat contract in an abortive swallow.

Kylo groaned. He moved his hand from Armitage’s shoulder to the back of his neck and began to pump his cock in and out of Armitage’s throat. Armitage closed his eyes. He concentrated on breathing whenever his airway was clear, and on the thrilling feeling of being choked by cock when it wasn’t. He was dimly aware that he was drooling everywhere, all over Kylo and down his own chin, but that wasn’t important—nothing mattered beyond the way Kylo’s dick had taken complete possession of his lips and tongue and throat. This was what he was made for: to be filled by Kylo Ren’s cock.

Abruptly, Kylo yanked out of Armitage’s mouth with a shaky grunt. Armitage chased it with his tongue but didn’t get far before he was overbalanced on the churn and had to retreat. “Kylo,” he pleaded, and his voice was absolutely wrecked, coming out in a croak.

Kylo ran his hand back through Armitage’s hair, stroking him like a favored pet. “You’re so good, Armie,” he said. “But if I come now, I won’t be able to fuck your tight little hole.”

Armitage swallowed against his raw throat.

Kylo moved back around behind Armitage and spread his cheeks with his hands. “Gonna have to get you ready,” he said. “Work you open slow and good so you can take me.” His hot, wet tongue laved over him again in a long, languorous stroke that left Armitage squirming. “Spit ain’t gonna do it, though,” Kylo added thoughtfully. He slid a hand up Armitage’s back, patting it. “Stand up straight.”

When Armitage complied, Kylo said “Good boy” and smacked his ass again. Armitage was sure his entire body was pink. His cock was bright red, held hard by the tightly tied handkerchief.

Kylo stepped to the churn and removed the lid. “Just think, Armie,” he said, “I spent the morning making this for you.” He reached in.

“Wait!” Armitage found his voice as the horrible realization sank in. Kylo couldn’t put butter  _there_. Surely he knew what would happen? “Pa—Pa will find out,” he stammered, “I can’t—”

Kylo straightened and withdrew a thankfully empty hand from the churn. “You don’t want to be fucked?” he drawled, and Armitage shuddered. He did. Kylo Ren might be a complete fucking imbecile, but Armitage wanted that dick.

“Please,” Armitage whispered. He was trembling. “I’ve got something else. It’s up there.” He nodded up to the loft, where tools and hay bales were stacked, and where Armitage’s hiding place lay beneath a loose floorboard.

“Show me,” Kylo said, voice low and sweet but tinged with impatience.

Armitage stumbled naked and barefoot up the wood stairs. His cock was hard to the point of pain; it was difficult to crouch down and move the board, but he managed it.

Kylo’s heavy steps followed him up, and as Armitage pushed himself back to his feet Kylo stepped up behind him and plucked the bottle from his hand. “Well,” he said, and he was standing so close, tight jeans brushing against the bare skin of Armitage’s thigh, “ain’t you just full of surprises?”

Suddenly Armitage found himself sprawled out over a hay bale, a big, heavy hand at the center of his back. “Stay,” Kylo said, and Armitage’s fingers scrabbled at the hay as behind him Kylo kicked his legs apart. The floor of the barn lay below him in full view, late afternoon sunlight slanting in through the open doors. Armitage could hear Kylo uncapping the secret bottle; moments later lube was dribbling down into his crack.

“You watch me from up here,” Kylo said conversationally, a thick finger sliding between Armitage’s ass cheeks.

“Yes,” Armitage confessed.

“You watch me and defile yourself.” His finger was at Armitage’s rim now, teasing up and down against it, and it was everything and not enough, like a tickle and an itch at the same time.

“Yes,” Armitage choked out, squirming, the muscles in his legs twitching uncontrollably. He wanted—

Kylo pushed into him, the tip of his thick finger forcing its way past the tight ring of muscle and driving a strangled gasp from Armitage’s abused throat. “And now I’m gonna defile you for real.” Kylo’s finger plunged deeper, and Armitage couldn’t hold back a squeal.

“Oh-oh, careful, boy,” Kylo murmured. “Want your pa to hear?” He leaned over Armitage and clamped his free hand over Armitage’s mouth. His bare chest, sticky with sweat, was hot against Armitage’s back. “You’re gonna be real quiet for me.”

Armitage’s eyes rolled wildly as he tried to look at Kylo, tried to nod his agreement, but Kylo was holding him so firmly in place that all he could manage was a desperate hum against Kylo’s palm.

“That’s a good boy,” Kylo said—and then he jabbed his finger the rest of the way in, and Armitage let out a scream that was barely muffled by Kylo’s palm.

It burned. It burned, and it felt  _wrong_ somehow to have something… _there_. Like it was  _forbidden_. Armitage’s skin was on fire, and his legs were outright shaking now. Kylo dragged his finger out so, so slowly, and Armitage felt himself clenching around it, desperate both to push it out and pull it back in.

“You gotta loosen up for me, Armie,” Kylo murmured in a teasing, sing-song voice. He shoved his finger back in, hard, and Armitage whimpered into Kylo’s hand. “My cock’s much bigger than this.” It was. Armitage knew it. Kylo was going to break him.

Kylo left his finger seated deep within Armitage, shifting one of the others to prod insistently just below Armitage’s balls. A shock of pleasure shot through Armitage at the touch, making his handkerchief-bound cock throb. He could feel hot tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

Then Kylo’s fingers pulled away, that burning stretch suddenly gone. Armitage was empty and tingling and panting hard into Kylo’s hand, and he let out a sob. Kylo chuckled, and Armitage felt more lube running down his crack. This time, two slick fingers began pushing at his rim. “Gonna fuck this little pink hole,” Kylo promised, voice husky. “Gonna fuck it so hard you’ll feel it for a  _month_. Every time you move, you’ll think of me.”

Armitage squeezed his eyes shut, shuddering, and pushed back against Kylo’s fingers. The movement raked his stiff nipples over the hay, and he felt his mind go hazy. He already thought of Kylo every day, staring down at him from his bedroom window, or stealing glances around the corner of the barn, or, as Kylo had surmised, watching him from up here in the loft, frantically jerking his lubed-up cock and imagining Kylo touching him.

He whined, and Kylo chuckled again. “Relax,” Kylo said, and he slowly worked both fingers in.

Armitage began to lose track of time, his world narrowed down to the feeling of Kylo Ren’s huge fingers forcing him open. Kylo’s fingers were so big. His cock was so big. Everything about him was enormous. He was going to leave Armitage completely wrecked.

A third finger forced its way in alongside the others, and Armitage’s eyes snapped open, and the tears that had collected in his eyelashes streamed hot down his cheeks.

The sun was setting, he realized distantly; the barn had darkened considerably, and the light from the doorway was dim. There was something fluttering at the back of his mind, something he’d forgotten maybe, but nothing mattered right now except Kylo’s fingers, Kylo’s dick—

“Good for nothin’,” grumbled a voice from the barn doorway, and Armitage’s vision pulled into sharp focus. “Armitage!” shouted Brendol Hux, his gaze sweeping the barn. “Where the fuck are you?”

Kylo squeezed the hand that was clamped over Armitage’s mouth, then let go. “Are you mine, boy?” he muttered in Armitage’s ear.

Armitage looked back at him in horror. In the low light he couldn’t make out the details of Kylo’s face. Kylo twisted his fingers in Armitage’s ass and it was all Armitage could do not to shriek.

“Y-yes,” he whispered tremulously.

“Then do as I say,” Kylo murmured. There was a long, slow drag as Kylo’s fingers slid out of him, and Armitage felt himself flexing around nothing. “Stay right here. Keep quiet. Keep yourself open for me.” Warm wetness smeared its way across Armitage’s back as Kylo swiped the lube off his hand and onto Armitage’s bare skin. His hand pressed lightly but firmly against the back of Armitage’s neck, and then there was nothing, and Armitage heard Kylo stomping down the loft stairs.

“Mr. Hux,” he called easily. Armitage bit his lip and closed his eyes. “Can I help?”

“You seen that fool son of mine?” Brendol asked.

“Can’t say as I have,” Kylo said, the lie coming so, so easily. Armitage felt his cock throb. His father could look up into the loft at any moment, could see Armitage’s flushed face peering down over the bale of hay—

He felt his ass clench again, and he remembered what Kylo had told him to do. Shakily, he reached back to grope at himself. Would all the work Kylo had done be undone, now that there was nothing inside him? Armitage drew a quiet breath and twisted back further. His fingers were slimmer than Kylo’s, so he pushed four into his hole.

Four fingers. Armitage barely held back a gasp. He had four of his own fingers in his hole. His hole was  _gaping_. And it felt so  _good_. He pumped in and out of himself, dragging the length of his fingers again and again through his puffy rim, almost forgetting what was happening below.

Armitage wanted desperately to touch his cock, to untie the handkerchief that had kept him stiff and needy for so long, but Kylo had said he would tell Armitage when he was allowed to come. He listened, half in despair, as Kylo directed Brendol’s attention back out of the barn with some excuse or another, and silently urged Kylo to return.

Not a moment too soon, Kylo clomped back up the staircase, and Armitage heard a soft rustle beside him. “Left your clothes down there,” Kylo murmured, sounding amused. “It’s a wonder yer pa didn’t see.”

“Shit,” Armitage whispered, trembling.

“Were you good while I was gone?” Kylo asked. He’d apparently retrieved more than Armitage’s clothes while he was downstairs; a soft click and suddenly a beam of light illuminated the loft. Armitage looked away before the flashlight blinded him. “Oh,” Kylo said in a harsh whisper. “Oh, little Armie, you were even better than I thought you’d be.”

Armitage hadn’t stopped plunging his hand into his own hole, legs spread, bent over the hay bale and twisted awkwardly to the side to reach. Now Kylo aimed the flashlight directly at him, directly between his legs, and Armitage could only imagine what he saw: Armitage’s hole, open wide and pink and glistening with lube, waiting for him, with Armitage’s fingers moving in and out, keeping it ready. For a moment Armitage felt heady with the idea that he’d surprised Kylo, that Kylo was pleased.

Kylo’s hands slid up Armitage’s sides, then down his arms. He pulled Armitage’s hand away from his hole and brought it together with the other at the small of Armitage’s back. “Keep those there,” he instructed, letting go. Armitage’s breath quickened at the sound of Kylo’s zipper; he could feel his pulse pounding in his wrists.

Kylo’s hands came back, one at his wrists and one at the back of his neck, holding him down. Then there was a new feeling, not like hard fingertips or soft tongue. It was somehow hard and soft at the same time, pushing against his rim and then past it and then deeper and deeper, far deeper than fingers could go—

This was Kylo’s cock, long and thick and perfect, filling Armitage to bursting—

Kylo began to thrust, shallowly at first and then deeper and harder, faster and faster, and all Armitage could do was lie under him and take it, hay scratching roughly over his cheek and chest, cock hard and bouncing between his legs. It felt so good, it  _hurt_ , it was perfect—

Kylo was fucking him right here in his father’s barn, right under his father’s nose, Armitage was doing  _exactly_ what Brendol was afraid he’d do—

He let out a short, ecstatic laugh at the thought, and Kylo growled and grabbed his hips and began thrusting into him so hard Armitage saw stars. “You’re mine,” Kylo said. “This hole is mine.”

“Yes,” Armitage said, because Kylo Ren could have his hole whenever he fucking wanted. “Please,” he whined, because he wanted Kylo’s cock forever, because he needed to be touched, because—

Kylo drilled him mercilessly a few more times, then seated himself completely and stopped. Before Armitage could react, Kylo was yanking him up by the hair, wrapping an arm around his waist, pulling him flush to his own body. He let go of Armitage’s hair and hooked his arm under Armitage’s leg, lifting it high. “Such a good boy for me,” Kylo said, and Armitage shuddered and clenched, and Kylo groaned. Then Kylo caught up Armitage’s other leg, leaned back, and began bouncing Armitage on his cock, fucking Armitage up and down his dick with the brute strength of a man the size of a bull.

Kylo bounced him up and nearly off, and dropped him and thrusted back in, and he did it again, and again, and again. Armitage reached blindly up and back and wrapped his hands around the back of Kylo’s neck, and Kylo growled and bit his shoulder. Armitage was moaning now, too loud, and he turned his head and attempted to bury his face in Kylo’s hair to muffle the sound. It felt like he was being split in two—and then suddenly the tight tie around the base of Armitage’s cock was gone, Kylo had undone it somehow, and before he even realized what was happening Armitage was coming, jerking and twitching and shrieking, cock pulsing one, two, three, he wasn’t even sure how many times; and Kylo let out a half-grunt, half sigh, clutched Armitage to himself, and staggered backward, slumping down to sit on an upturned wooden bucket.

Kylo’s hot breath washed over Armitage’s shoulder as he panted hard. His lips moved over Armitage’s skin, oddly gentle, and Armitage trembled as if tickled. “Such a good little farm boy,” Kylo huffed more than said. “Such a naughty little boss’ son.” His cock was still inside Armitage, but it felt smaller; he must have come. Armitage wished it would stay hard, wished it would remain inside him forever. He tipped his head back against Kylo’s shoulder and let out a long, satisfied but wistful sigh.

Kylo’s hands wandered over Armitage’s bare chest, up to his shoulders and down to his legs, a soft caress that nonetheless felt rough due to the thick calluses on Kylo’s fingers. “You’re a beautiful little thing, you know,” Kylo said. “Just perfect.”

“Fuck,” Armitage said; he wanted to protest being called  _little_ and he wasn’t really sure how he felt about  _beautiful_ either. But with Kylo’s hands on him, with his ass throbbing and his whole body tingling, he couldn’t muster the resolve.

~

Armitage limped down the stairs and out of the barn, his clothes as pulled together as he could manage under the circumstances. Kylo had returned the handkerchief to Armitage’s front pocket, but he hadn’t let Armitage have his underwear back, instead stuffing it into his own pocket with a grin. Once Armitage had pulled his overalls on and arranged the front to hide his shirt’s missing buttons, Kylo had tipped up Armitage’s chin, kissed his mouth for the first time, and sent him off with a painful swat to his deliciously sore ass.

The sun had set completely, and Armitage made the trek to the house in near darkness. As he reached for the doorknob, the door flew open to reveal Brendol looming in the entryway. His face was red and his shoulders were hunched. “Where the  _fuck_ have you been, boy?” he snarled.

Armitage kept his expression as blank as he could. “Sorry, Pa,” he said. His voice was still rough, his throat raw from Kylo’s cock. “I wanted to go for a walk, and I went a little further than I meant to—”

“You stay here in the house where you belong,” Brendol interrupted, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “You ain’t fit for farm work.” He leaned in with a scowl, and a thrill shot up Armitage’s spine—surely he reeked of sex, surely Brendol would smell it. But his father’s sour expression didn’t change. He continued in an angry mutter, “And I don’t want you going near those filthy hands. Especially that derelict Ren. Who knows what debauchery that animal gets up to.”

Armitage’s heart pounded. Who knew, indeed.

Brendol abruptly wheeled around. “Get in here,” he bellowed, stalking down the hall. And at that exact moment, something slick and wet—it was come, it was  _Kylo Ren’s come_ —dropped out of Armitage’s ass. It slid down his legs, painting his inner thighs with the evidence of what they’d done.

Armitage followed Brendol inside, ducking his head to hide his smile. “Yes, Pa,” he said.


End file.
